


Everybody Wants To Rule The World

by Avenging_is_My_Day_Job



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangel!Reader, Female Reader, Gen, Sister!Reader, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-15 02:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11221683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avenging_is_My_Day_Job/pseuds/Avenging_is_My_Day_Job
Summary: You grew up thinking that you were Sam and Dean's sister, but a recent development brings that into question. You're being pulled in two directions, and feel like you're not receiving support from either one. You know which side you're on though, even if your family doesn't.How much of the story changes? And how much stays the same?





	1. Chapter 1

When you came to, you were standing alone in a lush green meadow under a dusk painted sky. Constellations you had never seen before dotted the inky blackness overhead, gradually fading as sunlight enveloped the horizon. What a place, you thought, scoffing inwardly. 

Trees lined the edges of the field, whilst several twisting oaks spotted your direct line of sight. As a gentle, cool breeze swept through the air, a sense of familiarity overcame you. Looking around, you unconsciously stepped forward to inspect your new environment with rapt attention. 

It was when you felt the soft grass bent smoothly under your feet did you realize that you were barefoot, and that there was a large, red stain marring the front of your shirt that was rapidly fading. You gripped the fabric curiously, watching the stain vanish and the fresh tear mend itself. 

“I had hoped that our meeting would be under better circumstances.” A voice spoke from behind. 

You spun around, reaching for the gun that had been tucked safely away in your waistband, only to find that it wasn’t there. 

The stranger raised his hands to show he was unarmed. “I’m afraid, Y/N Winchester, that you are dead.” 

For the moment, you had nothing snarky to say. All the colour drained from your face, leaving a stunned, disbelieving expression in its wake. 

“So you’re one of those angel asshats?” You finally managed, glaring up at the dark haired man that watched you. “This what heaven’s like, huh? Empty?”

The stranger eyed you sympathetically. “When one dies, they are sent to their own heaven. A memoryscape where they relive their happiest and fondest memories.”

“Well, I don’t remember this!” You replied angrily. Growing up a hunter, you rarely got the chance to stop and marvel at the scenery. Come to think of it, you had traveled all over the country, something other people long to do, and didn’t have many happy memories to show for it at all. 

“This is not a memoryscape.” The angel said calmly, watching you carefully. “This is the edge of the archangel garden.” 

Rather than retort with the what the shit are you talking about that was practically sitting on the edge of your tongue, you laughed. You were no expert, but humans supposedly couldn’t interact with the angels in heaven. The angel standing opposite to you gave no indication that he was joking, though, and waited patiently for you to let him resume.

“What’s going on?” You finally asked, voice betraying your disheartened attitude. 

“You’re here because you aren’t human. Not anymore, at least.” The angel said. Before you could further express your confusion, he continued. “You are an archangel, Y/N, and right now you need to rest here while your grace regenerates. You’ve been without it for far too long.” 

“Which one does that make you?”

“The eldest of your brothers. Michael.” 

“The one whose pining for the apocalypse.” You confirmed with an insincere smile. “My real brothers are supposed to die for you and some pissing match with the Devil.”

“I want it no more than you do, sister…” 

“Don’t call me that!” You snapped, hands clenched into fists at your sides. Standing there, in these unfamiliar yet familiar surroundings, you felt almost at home. Something you had never had the liberty of knowing, all for the sake of a lifestyle you could never escape. But this was it. This was supposed to be your home and family. 

“But we can’t stop it.” Michael said, drawing you out of your musings. “And I need your help.” 

“Let me get this straight,” You began, “You want me to help you win the apocalypse, when I’ve been trying to help my brothers stop it from happening altogether? If you do this, I lose the only family I have left.” 

Calmly, Michael responded. “Do you remember anything about your previous life?”

You nodded. “I’m starting to.” Memories of your early years as a fledgling flashed through your mind. Memories of your four older brothers, of the fighting and the discontent around your younger siblings. The whispers and rumors of a war, of the fall, when Lucifer was cast down to the cage and thousands of your brothers and sisters fell in succession. You remembered watching humanity grow and flourish, as beautiful as it was meant to be. 

“And I remember why I left.” You said, backing away. “I saw the signs. I wanted to try to stop it before it started.” That day, decades ago, when Azazel first spoke to Lucifer in the convent, your brothers did nothing to stop it. 

“Don’t be a fool, Y/N. You know which side is right.” 

You didn’t respond. You did know which side to fight for. So you flew away, disappearing from the garden and finding yourself feeling more grounded than you had prior to your reunion with Michael.

Warmth flooded your being as you took long, raspy breaths of air and heard someone speaking. You didn’t expect being revived to feel that way. To hurt so much. It hurt to breathe, to move, and any ounce of strength you used -even to try opening your eyes- drained you completely. 

For several long, tense moments, all you heard was ringing silence, then the voices were clear. They were no longer muffled, but were now coherent, even if you was too disoriented to respond. After laying still for a minute or two, preserving your energy, you finally mustered the strength to open your eyes.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” Recognizing the voice as Dean’s, you quietly muttered a ‘yeah’ then tried to sit up, only to have someone gently push you back down. You briefly searched the room to determine where you were as your brothers moved around you. They were uncharacteristically quiet. Dean wore that stern, tough guy expression, and Sam looked like none other than a kicked puppy. 

“Did you miss me?” You asked, grinning impishly.

Finally, Sam spoke. “You were…dead. Y/N what happened? Cas couldn’t heal you.”

At the mention of the angel’s name, you noticed his presence on the far side of the room. He said nothing. Shit, he could see your grace. 

“I was in heaven.” You said quietly, gratefully accepting the glass of water that Sam handed you. “I was in one of the gardens.”

“You mean like Joshua’s garden?” Dean asked. 

“No, the archangel garden.” You clarified. You watched realization dawn on their faces, concern being replaced with anger. 

Dean stood up suddenly. “Sons a bitches,” he said. “They’re trying to recruit you now too?”

“Sort of.” You said, looking down at the glass in your hands. Now was as good a time as any to tell them. Maybe if you didn’t, then Cas would, and that wouldn’t be any better. 

You sighed. “I’m not human.” They exchanged glances but said nothing, so you continued. “I’m an archangel, and when I died, I got my grace back.” 

Silently you begged them not to make a big deal out of it. The last thing you wanted was to fight, or to be interrogated. On the outside you tried to remain stoic, as if nothing had happened in the first place. 

“So,” Sam started. “What does this mean?” Smiling, you said, “I think it means we just gained the upper hand.”


	2. Chapter 2

After the initial shock and worry wore off, a tense silence settled over you and your siblings. A few times you considered speaking up, maybe filling them in on a few things they may have missed before, but you figured that they needed time to come to terms with it. 

Considering the track record the three of you had with heaven, it was no surprise that your new status wasn’t immediately accepted. You could sense their doubt.  
Even you had a few conflicting thoughts about it.  
On one hand, being an archangel was -to put it simply- your entire existence. It all hadn’t come back to you yet, but how long had it been? Millions of years since your creation? Billions? The more you thought about it, the more you recalled. 

You certainly hadn’t seen the birth of the universe; even Michael hadn’t seen that, and he was the oldest. But you remembered seeing how stars were formed, learning about the formation of all sorts of celestial bodies, and it made you feel…sort of guilty, for lack of a better word.

On the other hand, you had been human for a number of years now. And until about a week ago, that had been the only life you had ever known. It hadn’t exactly been a conventional one, and you had every reason to feel the same about the angels as Sam and Dean did.  
This felt almost unreal. Being one of the things you and your family had come to hate so much was like waking up from a dream. It was inconceivable.

“Reminiscing?” Dean’s gruff voice drew you out of your thoughts.

“Thinking.” You replied, glaring at him. Propping your feet up on the small table in your current motel room, you looked away from him again.

Your older brother may be an ass sometimes, but he wasn’t angry, and he could tell that something was bothering you. Instead of crossing the room to leave, he pulled out the second chair and sat down across from you, once again diverting your focus.

“About what?” he questioned.

“No chick flick moments, remember?” You said, half-jokingly. 

Dean met your gaze and frowned, knowing you were avoiding the prospect of talking. Or a family intervention, you thought to yourself, swinging your feet to the floor again.

Earth was your life now. You had watched it and its inhabitants grow and thrive for nearly as long as it had existed. But now you were a part of it, not just a spectator sitting on the sidelines. Saving it was already your goal since the beginning of this whole ordeal, but now your appreciation for both sides of it made you even more determined.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s difficult to wrap my head around.” You sighed.

Dean nodded. Before he could speak, however, you cut him off. “And I would really appreciate it if we didn’t discuss it. I need to come to terms with it myself, first.”

Your brother wanted to say something, but decided against it. You could tell that he and Sam weren’t keen on the subject either, but like you said before, it had given you the upper hand.

“For now, I want to gank the son of a bitch that killed me.” You suggested.

*****

Laying on the dusty floor of an abandoned house, you listened to the pounding footsteps that belonged to your brothers. You muttered profanities under your breath, hissing in pain whenever you so much as shifted.

This was supposed to be a salt and burn, one of the easiest jobs a hunter could take. God knew you needed that kind of reprieve. After everything that had been happening, you didn’t think you would ever return to a normal routine. Or what constituted as normal for you, anyway.

An easy job was too good to be true though, and you figured it out the second you walked through the door. Your cell vibrated in your pocket, but you already knew what it would say. There is no grave. Nothing to burn. Get out of there.

Pick one, they all made sense.

Standing in the threshold, your e/c eyes met solid black and narrowed. Waiting for you inside that house, instead of a family needing your protection, was a demon. He had grinned sadistically, knowing you couldn’t kill him. You tried getting him to talk, hoping you could stall him until Sam and Dean got there, but he was dead set on his task.

When you tried to exorcise him, an invisible force too strong to fight against picked you up and threw you against a wall, hard enough to crack the plaster. Sam and Dean needed to go faster. They were undoubtedly already on their way, but you could tell your time was running out.

After he had gone, leaving you to die, you heard the purr of the impala’s engine as it came to a stop on the street.

They would find you. It would all be okay.

They were too late.

*****

They thought it was a bad idea.

Maybe they felt guilty about not getting to you sooner, but your brothers had it in their heads that they could keep you from finding the demon that killed you.  
Several days and a road trip after your short ‘talk’ with Dean, you were gathered at Bobby’s, supposed to be getting ready for your next job. But when you presented your plan to your brothers, they promptly prohibited you from attempting it. 

“You let us worry about it.” Dean said. 

You truly appreciated their concern for your well being, but you knew you could do it with or without them. Asking them for their help was only a courtesy.

“Are you coming with us or not?” Sam asked, standing behind the open passenger door of the impala. 

“Yeah, just a minute.” You said, jogging back to the house to grab your duffel.

Once out of their sight, you knelt down beside your bag and opened it, pushing aside your belongings to look at the blade tucked neatly beneath everything else. 

Unlike the rest of the weapons you had collected over the years, this was very different. Until the incident a few days ago, you hadn’t seen it in many years. Among the rest of your belongings, inconspicuous as they were, was your archangel blade. 

You found it there shortly after waking up in the motel, and holding it calmed you to a degree you were unfamiliar with. 

Reassured that it was still there, you covered it up again and carried the bag outside, tossing it into the backseat where you’d be riding for the next few hours.  
While your brothers speculated about the purpose behind being called out to Ohio, you mulled over your current situation.

You hadn’t been able to accomplish much on your own, since you’d been under near constant supervision of your family since waking up, but you had managed to convince Castiel to help you.

He had been unsuccessful in tracking down the demon, so far, but had discovered that others were talking about what happened. It had been set up, specifically for you, while your attacker had been strictly instructed to leave your brothers out of this.

Until you could get some time to investigate the matter yourself, you decided to focus only on the current matter at hand. 

The ‘life or death’ text that Sam had received earlier, sent by the prophet Chuck.


End file.
